


He's the One

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: 8x10, Angst, Christmas, Episode Tag, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, false witness, season 10, tibbs-yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs has been working with Tony for ten years, and he has finally come to the conclusion that it's time to tell him the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's the One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: M/M, language  
> Spoilers: Tag to False Witness, 8x10  
> Genre: Pre-slash, angst, romance, Christmas  
> Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
> Word count: 11,000 - 5 chapters posted in one  
> Disclaimer: Mine, all mine - not really.  
> For: Tibbs Yuletide 2012 http://tibbs-yuletide.livejournal.com/  
> Advent day: Day 22  
> Betas: Kerensa and Combatcrazy - thanks!

**He's the One . . . A Christmas Story**

_Cause you're the one that makes me feel like I'm_  
The one that makes you feel like you're  
The one that makes me feel like I'm  
The one

_Lyrics by Tim McGraw_

**1 - Losing It**

Tony has left the building and another Tony has taken his place.

McGee was mumbling about pod people and making movie references about aliens and body snatchers, but Tony never turned a hair.

It was only after Tony changed so drastically that Gibbs realized how very much he missed the other Tony, the one with the stupid jokes and irreverent humor that grated on him during an investigation, the man who looked like a kid when someone hurt his feelings but was quick to cover it up, the Tony who needled his co-workers and enjoyed their quick comebacks. But it was the Tony who occasionally smiled brightly and seemed to be truly happy – he was the man who Gibbs couldn't help but love.

That Tony was strangely absent and Gibbs was deeply concerned. He asked Ducky if it was a sign of burnout or if there might be something else going on. Ducky's response, or the gist of it, was that Tony was apparently struggling with some inner demons, and that if he hadn't worked through it by the time they returned to work in the new year, he would talk to him. Gibbs only hoped that wouldn’t be too late.

McGee and Ziva had been shooting worried looks Tony's way for several days now and even Gibbs was concerned enough to stop Tony to ask if he was all right  – twice in one day. The answer wasn't the usual 'fine' though. It was 'never better.' Not a big difference, but it was another indicator that something wasn't quite right. Tony had always been good at subterfuge wrapped in fabrication, covered in misrepresentation, yet he was unable to hide the fact that something vital was missing from his personality.

Tony's teammates accused him of being up to something, all because Tony had been working hard rather than tossing off jokes and playing around. Not that being a jokester meant that Tony didn't get the job done, because he did, and he did it very well indeed.

McGee was twisted himself in knots trying to break through Serious Tony, which would have been funny if it wasn't so disturbing. Gibbs barked at McGee to lay off and whacked him on the back of his head. He should be happy that Tony was coming in early and doing a month's worth of paperwork that his teammates had been avoiding, and Gibbs said so, making sure that Tony heard him.

***–***

Gibbs felt undercurrents of something very wrong when they were in interrogation. They tag-teamed the suspect, Smitty Brown, pushing and probing until he admitted he used a wasp injection knife to kill a man. Self-defense, he said. Tony was relentless, his anger raw, too close to a breaking point for Gibbs' liking. Tony might be suppressing his lighter side, but other emotions were being forced to the surface. It was one thing to be serious and another to be angry, and the interrogation room was no place for any volatile emotions. They got through the interview without any harm being done, but afterwards Gibbs stopped Tony in the hallway.

"Hey, what's going on?" Gibbs demanded. He kept his voice low even though they were alone in the corridor.

Tony stood at attention, as if he was being grilled by a sergeant at the military academy. "Sir?"

Gibbs didn't correct Tony's use of 'sir.' "You got a problem keeping a lid on things in there, DiNozzo?"

"No, just doing my job, Boss." Tony said defensively, "That man just admitted to murdering someone by blasting his organs apart with a wasp knife. You wanted me to go easy on him?"

"No. I want to make sure that everything you're holding back isn't gonna explode, Tony."

Tony blinked at Gibbs' use of his first name. "I can hold in my emotions, Gibbs. Don't worry."

"That's exactly what I'm worrying about, DiNozzo. You've been…preoccupied lately. Something troubling you?"

Tony seemed puzzled. "No. Nothing's troubling me. Is something going on I should know about?"

This wasn't going anywhere and Gibbs was feeling his frustration mounting. "You just don't seem yourself and I'm asking…as a friend…if, uh, you want to talk about it…or something." That wasn't the smoothest of invitations, but at least he got the point across because Tony's expression softened a little.

"I guess it's the time of year," Tony said with a small shrug. "I'm not exactly feeling the joy, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Gibbs replied. The holidays were his least favorite time of year. Memories and sentiment made a man wish for impossible things but the past was what it was – the past, and there was no going back. He leaned in close to Tony and said, "If you need help getting through this, you come to me, understand?"

Tony nodded and that was the end of the conversation. They went back to work but Gibbs kept a close eye on his senior agent, waiting for the inevitable break. **  
**

***–***

Gibbs walked briskly down the staircase after dealing with Leon Vance, and settled at his desk. "All right everyone, let's wrap this up. We're off rotation until the new year," he announced.

"We won't get called in on Christmas Day again?" asked McGee, not quite believing the good news.

"Nope," Gibbs confirmed. "It is now official." His people deserved the days off, and he'd made sure that he had Vance's solemn oath that this year, for a change, they wouldn't be pinch-hitting for another team.

Across the office, the elevator dinged. Gibbs turned his head and watched a security officer escort Petty Officer Jerry Neisler, whom they'd been protecting during the investigation, into the elevator. Once the elevator doors closed, Gibbs let out a sigh of relief. Good, he was finally gone, out of the building and out of their lives. Neisler was a perceptive, yet melancholy individual, and he'd made everyone in the agency, including Gibbs, feel distinctly uncomfortable.

He turned back to his agents, who had taken heart as soon as they had been informed they were going to have the next ten days off. Both Ziva and McGee were smiling as they worked on finishing their case reports. Tony nodded in appreciation and his shoulders appeared to relax a little. This would be the first time in years that they'd been given both Christmas and New Year's weekends off, and they were sure to make the most of it.

Gibbs was proud of his people. Even though they had been working non-stop for weeks, every one of his agents had called upon their hidden reserves in order to successfully bring this latest investigation to a close. Best of all, nobody got hurt – which meant far more to Gibbs than any traditional holiday gift.

After a long string of back-to-back cases and extended work hours, the stress had been getting to everybody. Gibbs had caught McGee staring blankly at his computer screen on more than one occasion. Ziva had dark circles under her eyes and her remarks to her teammates had an inordinate amount of bite to them. Tony didn't even bother fighting back half the time, and Gibbs swore he hadn't heard a single movie reference from him in the past three days. Even Ducky seemed less than cheery. Gibbs needed a break, too, and he missed his alone time with his boat.

His agents had been talking all week about tentative plans for the holidays, how they would like to go home to their families or visit friends. In Ziva's case, her wish was to go skiing with her federal agent friend from Florida. Now they could confirm their holiday plans.

Ziva picked a stray piece of confetti from her long hair, and disdainfully tossed it away. She looked pointedly at Tony and asked, "And what are your plans over the holidays, Tony?"

Tony glanced up at her briefly before going back to his typing. "New York City," he said matter-of-factly. "My father and I are going to catch a Knick's game at the Garden, and on Sunday we have tickets for the premiere of 'The Illusionist' at Radio City Music Hall. Lots of quality father-son time."

McGee looked puzzled. "Isn't that the movie with Edward Norton? It came out a couple of years ago, so why would there be a premiere?"

"Wrong, McMovie, this is the French film, 'L'illusionniste', written by Jacques Tati, but even _better_ than the movie–"

McGee pointed at Tony and grinned. "I knew it! I _knew_ the real Tony was lurking in there somewhere, under Serious Tony!"

If anything, Tony became more straight-faced as he continued, "Even better than the movie are the Rockettes and their lovely long legs. It takes me back to when I was fifteen and I lost my–"

Gibbs could see where this reminiscence was going. He interrupted, without looking up, "DiNozzo! You're gonna lose a lot more if you don't get your report on my desk in five minutes."

"Coming right up, Boss," Tony said, professional once again. He pressed the print button on his keyboard and rose to stand in front of the printer as if he'd never brought up the movie or the Rockettes.

Gibbs watched Tony from over the top of his reading glasses for a moment and then went back to working his way through the pile of papers on his desk. Tony's comment about going to Radio City Music Hall was the first time he'd talked about anything personal in a week and it seemed forced.

Ziva asked McGee in a loud whisper that everyone could hear, " _What_ did he lose?"

McGee glanced at Gibbs and wisely decided not to explain to her what was going on. He shook his head in warning and Ziva frowned but went back to work.

Tony smoothly slid the pages out of the printer tray as soon as they were ejected, stapled them with his Mighty Mouse stapler, and placed his finished report in front of Gibbs. "I put a digital copy in the shared folder. Here, let me handle those requisitions for you, Boss," said Tony, whisking the pile of papers out of Gibbs' hands.

Tony was all neatness and efficiency – even more so than usual – and Gibbs wondered, for the umpteenth time, what had brought on this exemplary behavior. Not that he wasn't glad that Tony offered to deal with the requisitions. Tony had been filling out the most tedious forms for years now, but this behavior wasn't normal. Gibbs asked in a low voice, "You okay, DiNozzo?"

Tony didn't even blink. "Never been better, Boss," he said, and then, almost as an afterthought, he smiled.

Gibbs was far from convinced, but whatever Tony's problem was, he seemed to be in good health. In fact, he hadn't looked this good for some time. Dressed in a designer suit, with a hundred-dollar haircut, and wearing what Gibbs was sure was very expensive cologne, Tony looked a lot more like a wealthy executive than an overworked federal agent.

He knew Tony better than anyone, and it didn't take a lot of insight to see that underneath that handsome, well-groomed exterior, something was not right. Gibbs wondered what he could do to break down the high wall that Tony had built around himself ever since Tony's father visited last month. The past couple of weeks, in particular, it had become obvious that something was out of kilter with his senior field agent. Even so, Gibbs could hardly take him to task for doing a good job. "Go down and get Ducky's report. And don't take all night," he ordered, more gruffly than was necessary.

With a small, polite smile still on his face, Tony turned on his heel and did as he was told.

Gibbs' eyes followed Tony as he walked out of the bullpen and towards the elevator. He didn't know what Tony was working so hard to hide, but he'd figure it out eventually. He'd heard about Brenda Bittner, Tony's one-night stand of a year ago, and how she had wrapped her car around a tree and then checked herself into a mental health facility. Ziva and Abby had been in the stairwell, sharing their concern for Tony. Abby had wondered why he felt responsible for the woman, whom he barely knew and hadn't seen in a year. Ziva had surmised that Tony had been upset because he had missed any warning signs of her instability.

It wasn't until later that Gibbs had realized that Brenda Bittner's near-fatal accident had occurred on the anniversary of the death of Tony's mother. Tony never talked to his colleagues and friends about his mother's death, and Gibbs was pretty sure that he was the only one who knew that Tony's mother had died in a car crash. She had driven into a tree near their Long Island estate almost thirty years ago. Maybe Tony had never dealt with her death. He'd only been a kid at the time, and his father had never been supportive of his son. Being sent off to boarding school soon after his mother's death must have made Tony feel abandoned and alone. Just thinking about Senior, and his treatment of his only son, made Gibbs clench his fists and wish for the opportunity to punch the guy's face in.

It was apparent from the police reports, which Gibbs had taken the time to seek out years ago, that the police hadn't been sure if Mrs. DiNozzo's death had been an accident or perhaps suicide, though there was no evidence that she had taken her own life. In any case, her death had been a turning point for both DiNozzo Sr. and his young son, and Gibbs knew, all too well, how grief could follow you for many years.

Gibbs wondered if Tony's father had said something to his son when he'd visited that had been the reason that Tony had sobered up. In light of Tony's reaction to the Bittner woman's troubles, he could be making a connection with her accident and that of his mother. Gibbs was no psychologist but he knew Tony was not in a good place right now. 

Earlier he had overheard Tony telling Abby that he was going ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, just like when he was a kid. He said that his mom always took him into FAO Schwartz to see Santa on their annual Christmas trip.

Although Tony has provided lots of details, there was something about his tone that clued Gibbs in that his plans were bogus. He couldn’t see Tony going to New York with his father, taking in the same sights he'd enjoyed with his mother thirty years earlier. When Tony boasted that he would be staying at Trump Tower with his father, Gibbs couldn't help but wonder who was going to foot the bill this time.

***–***

 

**2 - In Plain Sight**

Gibbs was just fine with being alone over the Christmas weekend. Yup, it was going to be just him and his boat, enjoying some quality time together. When he worked on her, he didn't think about investigations or killers or anything else. Everything boiled down to the wood, the stretch of his muscles as he formed the planks, the sweep of his arms as he sanded her smooth, until it was only about a man and his boat.

Unfortunately, Gibbs had been coming home so late most nights that by the time he ate dinner, often take-out or a heated-up can of stew, his energy level was at a low ebb and he ended up sacking out on the couch.

He hadn't slept in his bed upstairs in a long time. It made him feel isolated, and yes, even lonely. Although his home held a lot of good memories, lately he'd been thinking about selling it, maybe getting a smaller place close to the water. Living on a boat had crossed Gibbs' mind, too, but he had decided that should wait until he retired.

Now that he had a week off, Gibbs allowed himself to think about what he'd like to do in his free time. Naturally, there were plenty of things to do around the house, but they were mostly small repairs he could complete in a couple of days – the floorboards near the front door squeaked, the dryer needed new ductwork, the kitchen sink could use a new faucet – unless he completely renovated the upstairs bathroom. That would be a big project, one he'd been thinking about, on and off over the past couple of years.

Another option was that a little road trip to visit one of his Marine buddies who had asked him to come to Ocean City whenever he got time off. Now that he had the time, Gibbs found he didn't want to drop in on his friend during the holidays; he'd be busy with his own family. Maybe when the weather got better, they'd go fishing or something.

He had considered going to see his own father, but that was more of a duty than a desire. His dad traditionally spent his Christmas with his sister and her family, who lived only a short distance from Stillwater, so Gibbs didn't feel compelled to spend Christmas Day with him.

He wasn't looking forward to dealing with Jackson, who seemed to be getting more ornery with every passing year. They'd barely made it through last summer without killing each other. That was when Jackson had stayed with him, under protective detail, while the NCIS agents worked to bring down the Reynosa drug cartel. At least Gibbs had been working 18-hour days and they didn't have to spend much time together. They always quarreled over something and right now Gibbs wanted to spend his downtime alone, in peace.

He kept telling himself that this was just another weekend, that he didn't want to share it with anybody, but that wasn't entirely true. He never minded spending time with Tony, and wouldn't mind sharing a beer and steak with him, maybe even watch a movie, if Tony was around. Only problem was that lately Gibbs hadn't seen much of Tony during their off-hours. It was like he'd been avoiding him, though Gibbs didn't know why that might be.

Tony used to turn up at least once a week. He'd sit on the basement stairs and watch Gibbs work for a while, then saunter over and lean against the boat, acting all casual. Gibbs had learned that patience got the best results, so he would continue with whatever he was working on and wait for Tony to make his move. If he gave him plenty of space, Tony would eventually say whatever was on his mind.

The last time Tony had come over, he had talked to Gibbs about his father, how he was trying hard to make a connection with his old man, but was finding it very difficult. That was over a month ago. They talked a little and then went up to the kitchen for a beer, talked some more about sports mostly, and Tony left a short time later. That had been the last time he had been over, Gibbs realized.

Now Gibbs wondered, once again, what Tony was really planning to do with his time off. Probably going on a cruise with his frat brothers, he thought sourly. Even if Tony did go to New York, no way would he be able to endure his father's company for more than a couple of days. Gibbs had seen first-hand how being around his dad had made Tony crazy. Hell, it was the same way with his own father. Drove him almost as crazy as the ex-wives.

***–***

When Jackson phoned a week ago, he somehow managed to rope Gibbs into agreeing to come to Stillwater after Christmas. Apparently the Gibbs family was having a big get-together. Jackson insisted that it had been far too long since Leroy had seen his relatives, and Gibbs agreed, under duress, to attend the family reunion.

Gibbs' stomach churned at the thought of being imprisoned in his aging aunt's home in Sullivan County with a bunch of distant relatives. He hadn't been to any of the annual gatherings for years, since he was about thirteen. All he could remember of that time was running around with his cousins, and kissing a girl, who he was pretty sure was _not_ a cousin, out behind the smoke shed. She had slapped him in the face for his audacity. He grinned at the memory.

His dad would probably give him hell, but Gibbs decided he was going to leave early. He'd do his duty and have a couple of words with each of the relatives, but that was as far as he'd go. Instead of spending time with a bunch of people he could barely remember and didn't want to become reacquainted with anyway, Gibbs planned on going for a hike – alone.

He had somewhere special in mind. There was a state park near his aunt's place, with incredible views and a mountaintop that he hadn't climbed since…well, since he'd gone up there with Shannon. Gibbs absently rubbed his knee and wondered if it was in good enough shape to hold up over rough terrain.

***–***

It was almost six o'clock and most of the NCIS employees had gone home to their families. Not his team, though, because he hadn't cut them any slack, even if they've been sending him surreptitious looks for the past hour. Nobody was going anywhere until Gibbs had double-checked all of their reports and had finalized his own summation. Even though his agents put a digital version of their report in a case folder that existed somewhere on a hard drive, Gibbs liked to read their reports on real paper. He took a moment to glance up from McGee's report to inspect his people.

Ziva was talking on the phone in Hebrew, her voice raised as she spoke to a relative back home. McGee had Abby hanging over his shoulder, and they were laughing over pictures of goth Santas on the web.

Tony was the only quiet one. He sat at his desk, still far too serious, and he kept looking at Gibbs expectantly. Gibbs had a feeling his second-in-command was intent upon making everyone sit through yet another showing of 'It's a Wonderful Life.' Tony had already pulled some strings and booked the big screen in MTAC. How many years had it been? Fall of '01, that's when he had recruited Tony, which meant that Gibbs had watched that damned movie about nine too many times.

Hell, he'd never watched anything on film more than once, with the exception of evidence videos and one or two John Wayne war movies. Gibbs hated watching reruns, so why did he always give in when Tony insisted that they all had to watch his favorite movie together? Maybe it was because Tony was quick to point out that watching the movie with a large bowl of buttered popcorn was a family tradition, and Gibbs knew that, apart from his NCIS teammates, Tony had nobody else to call family.

Gibbs knew exactly why he always gave in to Tony's pleas, and until recently he hadn't wanted to admit the reason, not even to himself. This year seemed different though. He'd turned a corner, come to an important, life-changing decision. It was as if all those years of spending holidays working, or alone, had mounted up into such a huge pile that it was impossible to deny what was sitting right in front of his face.

There was also the fact that the man they had been protecting, Jerry Neisler – an outsider with a strangely perceptive eye – had seen Gibbs' life for what it was, and Jerry hadn't hesitated to speak his thoughts aloud: Gibbs was lonely and sad. Gibbs had been affronted at Jerry's tactless observation, and he had denied it vehemently, but it hadn't taken much soul-searching before he conceded that Jerry had struck a nerve.

Although Gibbs still wouldn’t classify his existence as being sad, to a stranger his solitary way of life outside of work must appear to be sadly wanting. What Jerry didn't see, for all of his insightful and largely unwelcome observations, was that Gibbs now wanted something he'd always assumed he couldn’t – and shouldn’t – have. He not only wanted it, but he'd decided to go after it. The only question now was _when_ , and _how_ to make it happen.

***–***

"Sometimes _the one_ is standing right there and you can't see them," Jerry had said. "You're not ready. Doesn't mean they're not _the one_ though. Means you can't see."

Gibbs had clenched his fingers and told himself not to reply to the man. The minute Jerry had said _the one_ , his inflection giving the words great importance, Gibbs' mind had gone to Tony. He'd waited until Jerry stepped out of the elevator and then proceeded down to the lowest floor on his own. When Gibbs was in-between floors, he hit hitting the emergency stop switch and the elevator ground to a halt. With a burst of anger, Gibbs had struck the metal paneling, leaving a sizeable dent in it.

Afterwards, nursing his sore hand, he stood there, alone and almost defeated, because he'd known – he'd _always_ known – who the one was. "But I _can_ see," Gibbs had said aloud. "I can see _Tony_."

***–***

Not that Gibbs had been sexually attracted to Tony he'd first recruited him. The kid had been handsome and eager to please, and damned good at his job even if he had been rough around the edges, and in the beginning Gibbs had been more of a mentor and a boss than a friend. Over time, Gibbs' feelings for Tony had grown and changed, slowly but surely, and those feelings were now a whole hell of a lot deeper and intense than they had ever been. It wasn't as if Gibbs ever looked at men in that way, and he had no clue as to why he was attracted to a man at this stage of his life, but he knew that his feelings for Tony were deep and sincere, and now he knew that he wanted Tony to know about those feelings.

Would Tony laugh at him, reject him, be appalled and run for the hills? Gibbs didn't think so, and he knew he was taking a terrible risk with their friendship and their working relationship, but his gut told him that this was the right path to tread. 

For some reason, whether it was the passage of time or changing perceptions, or because he was simply tired of being so damned alone all the time, Gibbs was determined to risk everything and reach out for his heart's desire.

***–***

 

**3 - Daydreams & Desires**

Gibbs didn’t make the decision lightly. After a great deal of thought about the events of the past few weeks, he was convinced that this was the right time to act. Tony was changing before his eyes, becoming a somber and unhappy man so unlike his former self that his co-workers were convinced he was doing it as a big joke. It wasn't funny to Gibbs, though. He feared for Tony, was concerned that nothing they could say would bring him out of this state he was in. And, worst of all, Gibbs was convinced that Tony's change in character signaled an impending change in career. Once again, it was his gut telling him that he was about to lose Tony if he didn't act fast.

Gibbs knew what he had to do, and he was sure that if he didn't speak up soon that he'd miss the opportunity, and he would most likely would never get another chance – or have the guts – to go through with it.

He had thought quite a lot about his relationship with Tony, and how they had grown so much closer over years. Tony was a co-worker, and he was a friend, too, but Gibbs had been thinking of Tony in a completely different way for a while now. His thoughts of Tony, his fantasies – because that's what they were – came and went in varying degrees according to the ups and down in his life, but it was usually during the lowest periods that his thoughts of Tony were strongest. A long time ago Gibbs had accepted they would never become a reality, but now…now he wasn't so sure.

Sometimes Gibbs would retreat to his house, and he'd lie on his couch with a beer, the tv on with the volume way down, and he'd think about Tony, about what Tony had said that day, how he'd seemed happy, or troubled, or how he was smiling a little too brightly in an attempt to hide something painful going on in his life. Gibbs would lie there and think about when Tony had laughed that morning, how he had thrown his head back, and Gibbs had seen that Tony had missed a spot under his chin while shaving, right next to that little scar he had from when he'd fallen off his bike as a kid. Or, during the colder months, how Tony would apply strawberry lip balm to his lips before he got out of the car, as if it was a ritual that he had to perform, and he'd turn towards Gibbs and give him a self-conscious smile and a shrug, and Gibbs would think, 'God, he's beautiful.'

Gibbs would recall how great Tony's ass had looked when he'd bent over at the crime scene. He had struggled to remain in control even though the beads of sweat that formed on his brow were a dead giveaway. Tony had looked at him quizzically, the only one on the team who caught on that something was not right. He had asked, "You okay, Boss?" Gibbs had summoned up his best glare and had snapped at Tony to get back to work, a clumsy attempt to push Tony away. He had felt like a hypocrite and a louse when Tony turned away with a hurt look in his green eyes.

***–***

Once he'd come to realize how he felt about Tony, Gibbs had made every excuse known to man to deny it, coming up with reasons as to why it was impossible, irrational, _inexcusable_ to have even the slightest hope that anything could come of his desire. It had taken him ages to accept that those feelings were not going to go away, and now Gibbs didn't want them to go anywhere at all. The problem, _the_ _situation_ was that Gibbs had slowly, inexorably, deeply and completely fallen in love with Tony.

He had this picture, this daydream, of how he'd take Tony to Stillwater, and they'd go on a hike up to the top of the ridge that overlooked the snowy valley. While Tony was complaining about the cold and the long trek, how his feet hurt and whatever else he could find to gripe about, Gibbs would carve their names in that big old tree that already bore his and Shannon's entwined initials. This time it would read: _Jethro loves Tony._ Then Tony would look at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and for once he wouldn’t spew all those clever words and movie references that Gibbs had trouble deciphering even when he had his wits about him. Instead, Tony would be speechless and overwhelmed, and Gibbs would tell Tony that he cared for him deeply, and that he wanted them to be together.

Gibbs could barely _think_ those words, so how would he ever be able to speak them when it came down to the wire and he had to? Because he would _have_ to say the words – Tony needed to hear them. He needed affirmation and reinforcement in order to believe; that much Gibbs knew.

If he didn't pursue this, Gibbs would be denying himself, and worse, denying _Tony_ , the chance to have someone to share everyday things with. Someone to have by his side through all the good and bad, a companion who would offer trust and support freely, and someone to occasionally fight and make up with. It struck Gibbs that he and DiNozzo have had a non-sexual version of that relationship for years now, topped off with cowboy-style steaks and beer while sitting on the lumpy old couch in front of the fire. But now Gibbs wanted more. He _needed_ more and he knew in his heart that Tony needed it, too.

Gibbs was old-fashioned; he wanted someone to come home to, to cook for, to have sex with, and to love and to make love with, someone big and warm to curl his body around when he slept, someone to wake up next to and with whom he could spend lazy Sundays doing absolutely nothing at all. He was even willing to move upstairs, into the master bedroom – for Tony, for _the one_ – and that was something he had never considered for anyone else, not even for any of his wives since Shannon. Gibbs wanted someone who really knew him, who understood about give and take, and wanted him so badly they ached for him every moment they were apart. He wanted Tony to feel the same things for him that he felt for the younger man. He wanted Tony. Period.

Now he had to find out if Tony entertained similar feelings. Gibbs was pretty sure Tony did feel something for him beyond their long-term colleague/friend connection, and Gibbs needed to find out for damned sure because the yearning, the not knowing, the slow draining away of the hope he had of ever getting this right before it slipped out of his grasp, was slowly killing him.

It wasn't rocket science, he told himself.

_You move close, look Tony in the eye and you tell him what's in your heart. If you mess up and can't get the damned words out, well…Tony'll get it. He's smart. He'll figure it out before you even stutter your second word. You just need to start the damned ball rolling._

***–***

Tony's façade had cracked a bit when DiNozzo Sr, came to town, and then it broke wide open as soon as he left. Tony struggled to regain his equilibrium and ended up overcompensating and spiraling downwards, ending up in an emotional limbo. Gibbs watched Tony suppress his emotions, flipping off the switch. Gibbs could see that the younger man had lost something of himself and couldn't figure out how to get it back.

***–***

"You okay, DiNozzo?"

Tony was so enmeshed in his alter ego that he seemed surprised at the question. "Fine. Never better, Boss."

It saddened Gibbs that Tony couldn’t tell when he was lying to himself.

***–***

"All right, that's it. Everyone can go home."

"Uh, Boss?" Tony looked hopefully at Gibbs.

Gibbs sighed. "You got plenty of popcorn?"

Tony's smile deepened and Gibbs caught a glimpse of the old Tony, the fun-loving movie-buff Tony. "More than enough, Boss. I'll even get you your own bowl."

Abby jumped up and down. "I'll get the eggnog! Timmy, help me?"

Tim was immediately at her side. "Sure. It's in the break room fridge?"

"Oh no, the punch bowl's too big. Ducky put it in one of the drawers in the morgue," Abby said matter-of-factly. "The one with the ID card marked 'Scrooge.'"

Tony pulled a face. "Eeew!"

Gibbs turned off his computer and rose to his feet. "Let's get this going, people. Otherwise it'll be New Year's Eve by the time we get the credits rolling."

***–***

 

**4 - Set My World Afire**

They watched the movie, drank some pretty good eggnog that Abby had spiked, and ate shortbread cookies that Ducky had baked. Tony got a phone call about the time the movie ended, and he went out into the corridor to talk to whoever it was. When he returned, so did Serious Tony, and Gibbs figured it had been Senior on the other end of the line. He was going to ask Tony about the call, but Tony studiously avoided him so Gibbs decided to let it pass.

It was close to ten by the time the party broke up with a flurry of last hugs and kisses and wishes of Happy Holidays.

Gibbs followed Tony down to the bullpen, where they retrieved their coats and sidearms. He was reluctant to go home without talking to Tony, if only to make sure that he knew that he was still there for him, but he wasn't sure of the right approach.

Tony shrugged into his overcoat and, after a moment's hesitation, said, "Well, have a Merry Christmas, Boss."

"Yeah, you too, Tony."

"Are you, uh, going to see your dad?" Tony asked cautiously.

"Next week," said Gibbs. "You flying to New York tonight?"

Tony glanced at his watch and said, "Whoa, I'd better get going."

It seemed sort of late to catch a flight, especially when you were tired, but maybe it was easier than traveling on Christmas Day. Gibbs was going to ask Tony for more details about his plans but Tony's eyes met his and then he looked away. It was clear he didn't want to have this conversation and Gibbs didn't want to interrogate him. "Take care then," said Gibbs.

They both headed for the elevator, side by side, and the silence as they waited for it to arrive at their floor grew awkward.

_Hell, what's the matter with you? Just open your mouth and tell him you don't want him to go to New York. Tell him you want him to come home with you, wake up together on Christmas morning in each other's arms. Tell him he's the one._

They rode down to the parking garage in silence. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Tony just about bolted out and walked briskly towards his car. Gibbs watched Tony walking away but before he'd gone more than six strides, Gibbs called out, "Got you a gift and I forgot to bring it." Well, it was true, and it was as good an excuse as any. Turned out it did the trick because Tony not only stopped, but he walked back to Gibbs.

"You got something for me?" Tony seemed genuinely pleased that Gibbs got him a Christmas present but he showed it with a small smile that was so far off his usual high-wattage grin that it hurt Gibbs' to see it.

"Shoulda brought it. Guess it can wait until later…unless…"

"I have something for you, too. It's in my car and…"

"You could…" Gibbs jerked his head, indicating his truck.

"I could…" Tony pointed over his shoulder in the direction of his car.

 _Oh hell, it's now or never._ "Want to swing by my place now?" It came out rushed but at least he'd said it.

That time Tony's smile was broader, and definitely more like _his_ Tony, and Gibbs couldn’t help but grin right back.

***–***

Gibbs drove at half his usual speed and checked his rear-view mirror every fifteen seconds to make sure his agent hadn't peeled off down a side street to escape his suddenly crazy boss.

They pulled up in Gibbs' driveway, and he went ahead to turn on the lights. Tony followed him into the living room, and Gibbs was reminded of Jerry calling the house, and its owner, 'sad.' It was enough to make Gibbs determined to damn well do something about it because he conceded that Jerry was right on target, and it scared him. He didn't want to be that man any more and this was his chance to do something about it, if he'd only grow a pair of balls.

"Take off your coat," Gibbs said, even though he didn't think Tony would stay more than a few minutes, especially if he had a flight to catch. Tony did as he was told and stood there, waiting for Gibbs to make the next move. He didn't seem nervous, more like he was on guard. With Tony's serious side back in place, it was hard for Gibbs to read him, and he didn't like that.

Logs and kindling were already set in the fireplace, so Gibbs took a few minutes to light a fire, hoping it would bring some much-needed warmth into his home.

There was a Christmas tree in the corner, one that definitely fit into the 'sad' category. It was lopsided and the highest branches were bent, so the star on top was perched at an odd angle. Gibbs fiddled to get the string of lights to work, wondering why it suddenly seemed important that he made his living room appear festive. "Come on, damn it," he muttered. The little light bulbs flickered and blinked and then they stayed on, but the brightly colored lights made the tree look even more dejected.

Tony was moved to say, "Nice tree, Boss." Gibbs sent him a disbelieving stare and Tony rubbed the back of his head, smoothing down hair that needed no such attention. "Okay, it's a little Charlie Brown, but at least _you_ made the effort."

Gibbs admitted, "Bought it from a guy selling trees at the gas station down the road. I couldn't sleep last night so I dragged the box of ornaments and stuff out." He waved a hand at the poorly decorated tree. There were a few wrapped gifts under the lowest boughs, one in the distinctive shape of a bottle of booze, and a couple of boxes – one big, one small – that his father had mailed to him.

Tony was peering at the gifts under the tree. "Let me guess…bourbon from Fornell and…are those sweaters and socks?" he guessed.

"Yeah, same every year. Fornell thinks I need the alcohol and my dad thinks I can't dress myself."

That was a perfect lead-in for Tony to make a joke about Gibbs' choice of clothing, or to laugh because he bought his suits at Sears, but apart from a small smile, Tony made no remark. Gibbs handed Tony his gift, a small box that was nicely wrapped only because the lady at the store had done it for him when he'd told her it was for someone special.

Tony reached into the pocket of his overcoat that he'd thrown on the couch, and pulled out a gift, wrapped in bright red paper. It was about the size of a wallet and, from the way Tony held it, it appeared to be heavy. Tony ducked his head a little and held it out to Gibbs. They exchanged gifts at the same time, cautiously, as if they were swapping hostages.

They sat next to each other on the couch to open their gifts and Gibbs weighed his gift in his hand. It was heavy, as he'd thought, maybe something made of metal. He felt embarrassed for some reason, maybe because Tony was watching him intently. Upon opening it, he found a set of four antique brass hinges, with decorative etching on the plates. "Nice. These look old."

Tony quickly explained, "They're for your boat. For the drop-leaf table? I remembered you told me how you were going to build one because it saves space in the galley. The guy at the restoration store said they were late 1800s."

Gibbs was touched that Tony would remember his plans for the interior of his boat, because he was sure he'd mentioned the plan for the drop-leaf only in passing, and that was months ago. "Thanks. They're just right."

Tony was still holding Gibbs' present, and it didn't look like he planned to open it anytime soon. Gibbs nodded and said gruffly, "Open it."

It was an elegant black writing pen, and Tony thanked Gibbs effusively.

Gibbs explained, "Click and it's a regular ball-point pen, but pull on it like this…" He demonstrated and a long thin knife blade popped out of the other end. Tony's face lit up and Gibbs felt a pull on his heart when he realized it was the first real smile he'd seen on Tony's face for ages. They were sitting close, their knees almost touching. Gibbs' leg brushed against Tony's and he could feel his warmth.

"Wow, this is so James Bond. Thanks, Gibbs. I'll keep it on me as a backup for my backup knife."

Without even thinking, Gibbs reached out and laid his hand Tony on the knee, and he let it rest there long enough to rub his thumb back and forth a couple of times. He wanted, quite badly, to give Tony a hug, just to connect physically, but he pulled back. "Hey, want a beer?" he asked, standing and heading to the kitchen. He couldn't look at Tony, afraid his nervousness would ruin everything, and he was more than half afraid of what he might see in Tony's expression. Damn, was being a coward. He had to talk to Tony, tell him how he felt, not grope him like they were kids on a first date.

"Sure, whatever you've got," Tony said, his voice a little muffled.

Gibbs returned with the beers and saw that Tony had moved over to the built-in bookcase and was angling his head so he could read the titles on their spines. He put the beers on the coffee table and went to put another log on the fire. When he had poked at the flaming logs all he could, and had put the fireguard back in place, Gibbs wiped his hands on his pants and moved over to stand next to Tony.

Tony looked up from the open book in his hands. "'The Thirty-nine Steps'? Good movie. I liked Hitchcock's 1935 version best."

"Good book. Ducky gave it to me."

Tony closed the book and carefully returned it to the shelf. He took his time and Gibbs could see, by the way he bit at his lower lip, that Tony was nervous. Wondering if his own case of nerves had rubbed off on Tony, Gibbs took a breath and said, "You want something to eat? I can heat a casserole."

Tony asked, "You make it yourself?"

"No, neighbor lady baked it."

"Ah. She a redhead?"

Gibbs chuckled and gave a half-hearted shrug. "'Fraid so. She's a good cook."

Tony nodded and although he smiled, it looked strained. "Must be in your genes, a natural attraction to a certain hair color. Like a magpie making a beeline for shiny things. Or is that a jackdaw?"

Gibbs braced one hand against the mantel and scratched his jaw. "There's a problem with that theory, I'm afraid." Tony raised his eyebrows and sent him a look of interest, so Gibbs followed his heart and said, "I haven't looked at a redhead for years. Not seriously."

"Your taste changed?" Tony seemed intrigued.

"Um, yeah. I'm not so interested in shiny things. I prefer brown hair." Gibbs' heart was beating a mile a minute.

Grinning, Tony asked, "Dark brown? Rich and dark like coffee?"

"No. Lighter, the kind that goes sorta blond on top in the summer."

Tony shook his finger at Gibbs. "Aha, you have someone in mind. This isn't just any brunette we're talking about. Who is she?"

"It's…" Jesus, he was about to out himself to Tony and he was scared to death of Tony's reaction. Gibbs swallowed hard and tried again. "It's someone at work."

"You're serious." Tony narrowed his eyes, his mind obviously going through all the possible candidates at NCIS. He asked, "Is it Marcia in accounting?"

Gibbs shook his head. He had looked at Marcia with interest, but that was before. _Before Tony_.

"Renée in ciphering? Janet? The one with the big brown eyes?"

"Tony–"

Tony held up a hand. "Ashley? Brianna? No, she just got married. The SecNav's assistant? Miss Pearson? She has a really nice figure."

"Tony–"

"No, don't tell me, uh…Oh, I know! That nice lady at the shooting range, the one who always brings you coffee when we go out there early in the morning. What's her name? Um…"

"Tony!"

"What?"

"It's _you_ , Tony," Gibbs blurted. Oh God, he was going to have a heart attack at any moment, but it was out. He'd said it. He'd confessed! If Gibbs expected Tony to smile and respond with happiness, he had another thing coming.

Tony stood there with his mouth a little open, looking confused, like he hadn't heard him right. "It's… _What_?"

Gibbs braved it and stepped a little closer. "You, Tony. You're the one I'm serious about."

Tony stared at Gibbs, and then his eyes widened a little, and then even more as realization hit him. His lips moved but no sound came out, and then he stepped back and shook his head. "No. No no no. Do not say that, Gibbs."

"I mean it, Tony. I care about you. I–"

"You can't. I mean you _can't_!" Tony raised his hands as if to ward Gibbs' off, even though he didn't move any closer. Tony turned away, and Gibbs waited, and when Tony turned to face Gibbs again, Serious Tony was back, in full force. "I need to leave now." He moved quickly past Gibbs and grabbed his coat on his way to the front door.

"Tony," Gibbs called after him. If Tony left now, he was sure that he'd never see him again, and the thought of losing Tony cut him right to the core. "Tony," he said, his voice rough with loss and regret. From where he stood, Gibbs couldn’t see his front door, but he heard it open. Cold winter air swept into the house and a few seconds later the door shut with an air of finality.

Gibbs sat on the couch with his head in his hands. He groaned, "God, Tony, I'm sorry."

***–***

 

**5 - Finding The One**

One of the floorboards in the front hall squeaked and from around the corner, Tony asked in a soft voice, "Sorry? For what?"

Startled, Gibbs looked up, staring at the wall as if he could somehow see through it. He couldn’t though, and he couldn’t tell what Tony was thinking without seeing him. Tony probably hated him, was horrified, repulsed, at the very least, by his boss hitting on him.

When Gibbs didn't answer, Tony poked his head around the corner and then he slowly returned to the living room to stand just inside the doorway. "Are you saying that you're sorry that you told me? Or are you just sorry for telling me I'm your latest redhead, because I'm not all that sure that's a good thing to be, with your track record and all, and then there's the rule about dating co-workers and…" Tony's voice trailed off. He took a step forward and asked, "You care about me?"

"I care about you, Tony." Gibbs met Tony's eyes and searched for a hint as to what he was feeling. He wasn't sure because Tony's serious barrier was up, but Gibbs thought he saw need in Tony's expression. It was most likely need for clarification, for understanding, and at that moment Gibbs wanted, desperately, to give Tony whatever he needed.

He could tell Tony that he cared for him as a friend, as a son, and Tony would probably accept it. Tony wouldn’t _believe_ it, but it would be an acceptable lie. Maybe they could go back to the way they were, be colleagues working together, watching each other's backs in a dangerous business where often the man next to you was all that stood between you and certain death.

But Gibbs realized, with frightening clarity, that he did not want to go back to the way they were. He didn't want Tony to find the situation so uncomfortable that he'd leave NCIS either. Gibbs said carefully, "I don't want to hurt you in any way. I value our friendship."

Tony bowed his head and said, "I do, too." He sighed and walked right up to Gibbs to stand in front of him. Gibbs rose to his feet so they were eye to eye. He could have reached out and touched Tony, easily, but he didn't. It was important that Tony take the lead, that much he knew. Gibbs waited, forcing himself to be patient, when he wanted, so badly, to wrap his arms around Tony and hold him close.

As Gibbs watched, Tony changed. At first it was subtle, a couple of blinks and the taut lines at the corners of Tony's eyes disappeared. There was something in their depths, anxiety but more than that. Disbelief and…and _hope_. The tense jaw relaxed, and Tony's lips curled up in a suggestion of a smile. "You sure know how to kill a party, Boss."

"I–"

"And don't say you're sorry, Gibbs, because it's weird coming out of your mouth. You never say you're sorry," Tony said lightly.

Gibbs nodded. "I'm not apologizing for feeling this way."

Tony studied him for a long moment and then asked, "You sure about this?"

"Damned sure," he said, his voice deep with emotion. "You?"

"I can't believe it, because this is _really_ coming at me from out of left field, but you can count me in." Tony gave a laugh, as if shocked by his own words. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure."

Gibbs was a bit shocked, too, and he wasn't at all sure what the next step should be.

Tony removed his coat and tossed it over the armchair. "I guess that if this is confession time, then I'd better pitch in," he said abruptly. "You asked me how I was doing. I lied to you about being fine, but you already know that. I felt…I _did_ feel fine, in a way, because I found this place I could go to where nothing could get to me. I think it was always there, and I just didn't remember…" Tony frowned and asked, "You ever find a place like that, Gibbs?"

Gibbs shook his head, and said, "No, I haven't." There had never been any place where he could take refuge from his pain, but it looked like Tony had found one. He wondered if it was a remnant of Tony's childhood, a way of coping when his mother had been killed.

"It worked for a while. I could function okay, could go through the motions on the job. I got a lot done. I hope McGee doesn't expect me to do his expenses every month." Tony smiled fleetingly. "But…but this afternoon it started to get harder to hold it all together. I don't know why, but I kept getting these flashes of sitting in my dad's hotel room, with him showing me this old photo he found of us fishing. I don't really remember much about that trip, except that it was the last time we did anything as a family, with Mom. When we were interrogating Smitty, I kept seeing Dad smiling and I got…well, I got pretty angry."

Tony looked away and swept his hand across his mouth, and Gibbs could see a slight tremor in it.

Tony said, "I can live with knowing my father treated me like I was so much excess baggage, you know? I mean I'm used to that. But seeing that photo of my mom and hearing Dad go on about the wonderful memories and knowing he doesn't have a fucking _clue_ what he's done to me, what he did to her…And when I heard about Brenda Bittner's accident…" Tony looked at Gibbs to see if he knew who he was talking about and Gibbs gave him a nod.

Tony moved over to stand in front of the fire. He drank some of his beer and continued, "They said that my mom had been drinking before she crashed the car. Nobody told me anything when I was a kid, but I heard them talking. When I was old enough, I got hold of the police reports, the coroner's reports, everything I could lay my hands on. They said it was inconclusive but I'd like to think…I try to _believe_ that it was an accident because we were planning on going into the city to see a Christmas show, go ice skating, go to the top of the Empire State Building. Mom was taking me to F.A.O. Schwartz and she was going to let me choose whatever toy I wanted for my gift. I know my mother and she wouldn't have killed herself."

Tony bit his lip to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Mom always told me I should follow my dreams, and not to listen to anyone who told me there were limits or boundaries. And I did follow them for a while. I worked really hard to get into pro sports, and then my knee got messed up and my dreams went out the window." Tony held his beer bottle aloft and asked, "Do you have something stronger than this?"

Gibbs fetched a bottle of whiskey and poured them each a few fingers in glass tumblers. He handed one glass to Tony. "Sit," he ordered.

They settled next to each other on the couch, close but not touching. Tony swallowed most of his drink in a couple of gulps, and then he put the glass on the coffee table next to the bottle. "Do you know that I went into law enforcement only because one of my buddies joined the force? I hadn't even thought of joining before that. Man, I was such a probie."

"No, you never told me." He was surprised because he'd thought that Tony had chosen a career in law enforcement rather than having fallen into it. "You're a good investigator, Tony. One of the best."

Tony nodded, accepting the praise. "It worked out okay, but now I look around and wonder what am I doing here and where'd I take a wrong turn? Not that it hasn't been great being on your team, Gibbs, and learning from you, but this job is sucking the life out of me. I mean, how can I take another eighteen fucking years of waking up every day knowing that I'm gonna be doing a meet-and-greet with one more decomposing corpse. You know how many I'm gonna be dealing with if I make it to the gold watch? 'Cause I worked it out. It's like over 800 dead bodies if we get one killing every week or so. _Eight hundred_ , Gibbs!"

Gibbs met Tony's challenging gaze, and he felt fear in his gut. God, he wasn't losing Tony – he'd already lost him. "You can't think of it like that, Tony. Every case counts. Every criminal we lock behind bars. Every person we save, every victim we find justice for – _that_ is what counts. You need to add up all the good we do, not all the terrible things we have to contend with."

"Not so easy. Do you know what the worst part is?" Tony gave a humorless laugh that sounded desperate. "Most of those years you won't even be around, Boss. You'll have retired and be sailing your boat around the world or something, and I really don't want to be on the job without you. I…I don't think I can stick with it if I'm not working with you."

For a guy who had been closed off for days, Tony was being pretty voluble about his feelings. It was like a dam had broken. Now the question was, how to navigate the floodwaters. While Gibbs was trying to figure out how to respond, Tony downed the rest of his drink and placed the empty glass on the table with a clunk.

"You're not drinking, Boss." Tony was breathing hard and looked like he was about to lose it.

Gibbs laid a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Hey. I ain't planning on going anywhere just yet, DiNozzo, so don't rush me out the door," he said wryly.

Tony turned his eyes Gibbs' way and held his gaze. He gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Look at me, a middle-fucking-aged cop losing his marbles, and not hiding it too well. Not exactly the Cracker Jack prize." He took a ragged breath and announced, "I'm not going to New York."

"Didn't think so," Gibbs said understandingly.

"I _was_ going to, had it all planned out. Going to take a trip down memory lane with my dad, not that we have many shared memories to relive."

"Plans changed?"

"Got cancelled, and not by me. He called earlier, somewhere between 'Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings' and the eggnog. Should have expected it," said Tony, his voice hardening. "God, I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," said Gibbs, his voice equally harsh. He'd never hated DiNozzo Sr. quite so much as he did at that moment. "You believe in the best in people."

"Yeah, well, now I have a memory of my father and Christmas I won't forget. I was going to go home and drown my sorrows when you asked me here."

"I'm glad you came, Tony."

"I didn't want to go home because there's nobody there, and at the rate I'm going, I'm pretty sure that there never will be."

"You've got me, Tony. And you're welcome here." He meant it, too, and no matter whether Tony wanted to be his co-worker, or his friend, or something more, Gibbs would always be there for him. "I want you to stay, spend Christmas with me."

Tony looked at Gibbs as if he didn't quite believe him. "Thank you." He turned his head to stare into the flames of the fire and said softly, "I missed coming here, a lot."

Gibbs couldn't stand seeing Tony so unhappy. Without even thinking about it, he pulled Tony into his arms. There was a slight resistance at first but then Tony sort of melted and sighed into Gibbs' neck, his breath warm and a bit boozy.

Tentatively, Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs' waist. After a while he whispered in a shaky voice, "What're we doing?"

Gibbs didn't know the answer to that so he spoke the plain truth. "I'm holding you, Tony."

Tony chuckled and clung to him. "Yeah, I got that much."

Gibbs was enjoying the warm feeling that pervaded him from holding Tony in his arms, from his breath and his scent and his touch, but it couldn’t last forever. He shifted his weight and they moved apart until only their legs were still touching.

Tony smiled as if he'd just discovered something wonderful. "That went right to my head."

Gibbs said firmly, "You're sleeping over. In the guest room."

"I meant the hug, not the whiskey." Tony frowned. "You don't have a guest room."

"I've got a big bed upstairs. That okay with you, Tony?"

Tony nodded and seemed surprised when he said, "Yeah. Yeah, that's okay with me…Jethro."

The clock on the mantelpiece rang softy at midnight. By the third chime, Tony had raised his face to Gibbs, his lips parted, and by the fifth chime they were kissing. When it was several minutes past the hour, the two men were still holding each other, lying back on the cushions of Gibbs' old couch in front of the fire, next to a slightly sad Christmas tree whose twinkling lights occasionally blinked and threatened to go out.

"Merry Christmas, Tony," said Gibbs, unable to stop himself from grinning.

"Merry Christmas, Jethro," Tony replied, smiling, his eyes sparkling. "Now what?"

Gibbs thought for a moment then said, "Hot shower, bed, sleep. Tomorrow we can make plans. Work on the boat." He added, "How would you feel about going on a hike with me, up in Sullivan County?"

"That near Stillwater?"

"Yup."

"You sure about taking me there?"

It was a big step, but Gibbs knew the moment he invited Tony to tread that path with him, that it was the way to go. "Damned sure. And you should bring that pen knife of yours."

They stood up at the same time, Tony leaning slightly against Jethro. Tony gave him a soft, loving kiss, one that held a lot of promise of good things to come.

It turned out that not only was Tony the one for him, but he was the one for Tony, and Gibbs couldn't have been happier.

***–*** the end ***–***

 


End file.
